


Dawn

by captain_othersider



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Dwarf Noble Origin, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 23:03:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17886788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captain_othersider/pseuds/captain_othersider
Summary: The name "Zaria" means "Dawn"; something completely foreign to a warrior born and raised underground.





	Dawn

When they step out of the cave and into the cold surface air, it is already nighttime.

She expected a moment of hesitation, one final tug in her gut that would call her to stop, to stay in the Stone as she is meant to - but she is numb and exhausted, and and the exact moment of crossing the threshold escapes her attention entirely. In fact, she only notices that something has happened when a chorus of relieved sighs sounds around her, as the Wardens, humans and elves, stretch and smile and breathe in deeply. Only then does she look up and see a great wide blackness, sprinkled with lights that resemble precious stones in a cave’s ceiling - except these are not gems reflecting torchlight, but stars.

As the Wardens begin to spread out and chatter, she remains standing, gazing at the sky, now having rendered herself irrevocably Casteless. Her mind tells her that she can still see the ceiling, the dark stone in which all these lights are embedded, but she knows it’s not true - these lights are hovering amidst nothing, far, far above her head, and even further above them is… What? When does the sky end? Does it ever, or is it just an infinity or darkness and hovering lights? No records of the surface world ever mentioned that.

Dizziness kicks in, and her vision blurs, yet she does not move - fearing that if she does, she might fall to her knees and never get up again. Her eyes burn for some reason, and a ridiculous, foolish, bitter thought crosses her mind: perhaps she should have agreed to Lord Dace’s proposal. Perhaps, if instead of challenging his son to a duel, she listened, she’d have a chance of returning someday.

She blinks away the tears - caused by the same thing as her dizziness, no doubt, - and hurries forward to catch up with the rest of the group.

When they reach the camp, occupied by fewer Wardens who welcome their comrades back from the Deep Roads, the deep blackness of the sky begins to fade into a brighter blue. She is directed to a wide tent, in which a healer awaits, a thin elven woman who checks her for injuries despite protests and assurances that she was not harmed.

“You’re not a Grey Warden yet,” the healer shuts her off with a frown. “Now please take off your armor.”

By the time she leaves the tent, the sky has a purple hue, and the stars are not as bright as she remember them. Duncan awaits her outside.

“I trust everything is well, if she let you go,” the Warden says instead of a greeting. She nods. The human turns around and begins walking, with a gesture inviting her to follow. As she does, she feels a knot in her stomach, sharp and stone hard, commanding her to put the Warden in his place for not addressing her properly.

They pass by grey tents and campfires, weary warriors and sharp-eyed archers, all in silver and blue.

“My fellow Wardens want to know the new recruit’s name,” Duncan says. “I recall you said you were exiled.”

“That is true.” These are the first words she utters ever since the meeting in the Deep Roads, and they are sharp and fast, almost not letting the Warden finish his sentence. “I am no longer of House Aeducan.”

It hurts.

“Then how shall we address you from now on?” he asks. “Would Lady Sereda suffice?”

They stop. The sky above them is now turning pink; she looks up to see more, and notices a strange relief that wasn’t there before, large shapes… Are they falling down?

No, of course not. These… These must be clouds.

She thinks about Duncan’s question. Before, her name has always been Sereda Aeducan; she took pride in her house’s name, and her own… She certainly didn’t hear it as much, not even within her own family. Sereda: “She in the middle”. The middle sibling of three and a glorified fighter, always in the thick of it, always in the midst of the battle, never able to stay away.

The world used to revolve around her once, she thinks, and this thought is like stone grinding on stone inside her chest. No more.

“It will not,” she says.

No longer a sister or even a daughter, no longer the center of attention, she hardly can do this old name justice any longer.

“What will it be, then?”

She did not think about this. If she can no longer be Sereda, who can she be?

Her gaze drifts up again, drawn to the pink clouds, to the strange beyond understanding, yet beautiful world above - and meets a terrible flame, a flash of light so bright it scorches her eyes, which well up with tears immediately. She hisses in pain and curses, folding and covering her face; the flame is still burning behind her closed eyes, and won’t go away.

“Maker’s breath,” the Warden’s voice comes from above. “I haven’t realized the dawn has come already… And of course, you are not used to the sun.” A gloved hand touches her shoulder. “Are you all right? Perhaps you should go rest in a darker - ”

“I am fine,” she snaps, straightening immediately and forcing her eyes to open through the pain. The world is a burning, blurry mess, and she cannot see a single thing; she wipes her tears, but they do not stop. “I am fine,” she repeats. “This is the surface. I must get used to it.”

“It is a process,” Duncan says. “Come, I will show you to your tent.”

She tries to object, but realizes she can barely make out the shape of her own feet on the ground and gives in, allowing the Warden to walk her through the camp, supporting her by the arm as an elderly noble’s son would do on a stroll through the Diamond Quarter.

Dawn is a horrible thing, she thinks to herself. Just for a few moments, the sky was so beautiful - and then it all burned away. The records did not mention anything about that either; dawn was just a word, meaningless to her right until now.

“…Zaria,” she blurts out.

“Excuse me?”

“Zaria,” she says, voice now steady. “That is my name.”

“Very well,” Duncan replies; she listens closely for amusement, any mocking undertones in the human’s voice, but finds none.

He leads her to a tent. Once she climbs inside, the soothing darkness relieves the pain just enough for her eyes to focus again; there is a large black spot in her vision where the flame struck, but she knows it will fade. She hopes it will, at least.

“I will leave you to your own now,” the Warden says. “Take your time to rest; one of us will come for you if you are needed for anything.”

And with that, he’s gone. She remains alone, sitting in the dark with her stinging eyes and head full of hazy memories of the sky. Wind sways the rough fabric of the tent ever so slightly; wind is not new, but its presence is so much stronger out here than back down at ho… at Orzammar.

There are many things she must get used to, many things for her to do.

For Zaria.


End file.
